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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788429">Along for the Ride (but he’s complaining the whole time)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/naihka/pseuds/naihka'>naihka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Apex Legends (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Possession, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Mirage | Elliott Witt &amp; Wraith | Renee Blasey Friendship, Murder, Possession, Revenant Being Revenant (Apex Legends), Revenant Being an Asshole (Apex Legends)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:06:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,080</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788429</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/naihka/pseuds/naihka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After Revenant stumbles into the Paradise Lounge, half-dead and quickly losing his soul—pitch black smoke with the sparks of an unforgiving Void—he hitches a ride with the bar’s owner until a spare arrives. <br/>(I'm a sucker for the 'supernatural evil thing possesses normal person and they become buddies' trope)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Revenant (Apex Legends) &amp; Mirage | Elliott Witt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1 : Inhalants</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yeah, I know it's bad. Also, it's before Rampart existed, so sorry that she's not here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elliott hums, idly tapping the tabletop of his bar. The Decoy bartenders all flickered out hours ago, the glasses and white cloths they held all sitting on the polished wood. The Paradise Lounge is peaceful after close—the neon signs above the door all off, the cursive nearly unreadable against the grey outside of the bar. It also felt nice not to deal with people anymore. Sure, he kept a pretty good façade up, but dealing with people for hours each day was <em>exhausting</em>.</p><p>He walks into the bathroom, instantly noticing the cracked mirror. Huh. Seems like someone got a little annoyed at themself. He quickly writes a note on his phone to replace the mirror and leaves the bathroom.</p><p>The bell above the door rings, drawing the Legend’s attention. Elliott instantly recoils at the figure stalking towards him, his hand reaching for the Wingman he casually has underneath the bartop. The figure rumbles softly, dragging a limp, nearly detached leg. Half of him is missing, burnt at the edges, with a loose metal skeleton revealed—as well as the wires and mechanical organs that make him up. Amber eyes punctuate his shadow-covered form, the bright optics flickering.</p><p>“Skin… suit…” he laughs, before collapsing. The clang as Revenant hits the floor is loud, enough to spark worry that someone outside might have heard and become concerned. Thick smoke curls from inside the simulacrum, orange sparks inside the mass of Void energy. Elliott freezes for a moment, waiting for some random passerby to come over or—should the ‘smoke’ be <em>actual fucking smoke</em>—for the fire alarm to go off. Neither happens, so he approaches the wreckage, phone out and already dialing Renee’s number, which had the lovely contact name of ‘portal lady 👻’. She responds quickly, and Elliott nervously begins, “So, Revenant’s at the Lounge…”</p><p>“Oh—fuck. He didn’t hurt anyone, did he?”</p><p>“No, no—nothing like that. He just kind of… walked in during afterhours and collapsed—there’s this big thing of smoke—” Renee pauses as Elliott begins coughing, a hacking noise that made her worry.</p><p>“Are you okay?” she asks, already adjusting her phase tech to create a portal at the Lounge. She could hear Elliott drop his phone, his coughing distant and slowly subsiding. She waits briefly, the voices quiet. Elliott grabs his phone after a moment, and, after clearing his throat, says, “Yeah—I’m fine. I got to close to the stuff—the smoke—I guess my coughing dispersed it, or something,” he laughs.</p><p>The voices murmurs amongst themselves, unsure. Renee cautiously tells Elliott, “Alright…I’ll see you when you get back, and maybe Ajay can send someone to pick up Rev.”</p><p>“Gotcha, Renee! I’ll see you!” he answers cheerily, before hanging up. He takes Revenant’s remaining arm and drags him to the back of the bar, eventually summoning his Decoys to help. After he sees a drone arrive and scan the wreckage, he heads towards the docked Ship, taking a cab and bullshitting excuses as to why he was late. The guards dismisses him, letting him back inside the Ship.</p><p> </p><p>“Elliott! I see ya have found where the grumpy one has gone! We were wondering where he went!” Ajay calls from inside the Medbay, reviewing the drone feed. “He looks pretty banged up. What happened?”</p><p>“Don’t ask me, he just walked in,” Elliott replies, walking towards his room. Pathfinder is in the hall of dorms, and easily steps out of Elliott’s way. The latter raises an eyebrow, usually having to talk to Pathfinder in order to get by. The MRVN silently moves towards the Commons, ignoring Elliott otherwise.</p><p>Elliott shrugs to himself and unlocks his dorm door, before launching himself on his bed, the unnecessary number of pillows dispersing and falling off, leaving one actual pillow for the Legend to rest his head on. He audibly groans into the pillow, uncomfortable and tired. A headache begins to blossom nearly everywhere, causing him to whine. He searches his nightstand for the bottle of Tylenol and takes two pills, choking them down without water. “God, today isn’t my day, huh?”</p><p>A little ping on his phone tells him the mirror would be installed next week, and the charge of 2,000 coins makes him whine again, louder. “What? Are mirrors rare nowadays?”</p><p><em>The price has probably gone up with how many I’ve broken, </em>Elliott thinks, tired. He blinks, remembering something. He’d never really <em>broken</em> a mirror—well, one. He’d accidentally ran into one at a mirror-maze, which he went through with his Decoys. Bad idea. With a deep sigh, he flips onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, ignoring the sound of his friends talking. They wouldn’t want him hanging out, anyway—Ajay would probably ask to do a test with how much he was coughing on the phone. Maybe he it’s overthinking it.</p><p><em>You are, </em>he eventually thinks, closing his eyes and trying his best to make sleep come quicker.</p><p> </p><p>After what feels like an eternity, he opens his eyes. The chatter has stopped—it’s officially ‘lights out’, but they could still walk around. <em>What time is it?</em></p><p><em>10:37, </em>a distant thought replies, instantly. Doubting himself, Elliott checks his phone, only to find that he’s right. <em>Heck yeah. Points for me. </em>Elliott sits up, stretching his limbs, before walking towards his door. He rolls his neck as he walks, cringing at the popping of his neck. He pauses for a moment, then grabs his phone. He heads towards the kitchenette in the Commons, noticing some hunger pains. “Right, I haven’t <em>eaten </em>anything today…”</p><p>Anita stood in the kitchenette, fixing herself a late-night snack. It’s a healthy one—<em>that’s so weird, </em>Elliott thinks. <em>Who gets </em>healthy <em>midnight snacks? —Those of us not addicted to sugar, </em>a harsh reply comes, startling Elliott from his previous thought. <em>Oh. Yeah. Right.</em></p><p>Anita looks up as Elliott walks in, her expression softer than normal. “Couldn’t sleep?”</p><p>“Eh? Yeah.” Elliott stares at the pantry for a moment, trying to place the craving. <em>Salmon? </em>“Hey, Bang, is the synthesizer on?” The synthesizer was mostly for ingredients when the Legends wanted to cook. It was mostly Makoa who cooks—he always had these delicious recipes on hand, a seemingly endless amount. And, of course, Elliott made porkchops. But, he didn’t feel like those.</p><p>“Yep. Why? You lookin’ for something not in here?” she replies, raising an eyebrow. <em>Smoked salmon. I can’t remember when I last had that… </em></p><p>“Mhm,” Elliott answers, walking towards the synthesizer on the other side of the kitchenette—it’s a small machine dug inside the wall, bright blue lights accenting it, along with a small keypad. He types in what he wanted and in seconds it appears.</p><p>“Elliott,” Anita deadpans. Her tone is disbelieving. “You’re allergic.”</p><p>
  <em>Huh. Right. I forgot about that...</em>
</p><p>He blinks and presses another button. <em>Of course, you’re allergic. I should’ve known. Never one to accept sushi dinners. It was obvious, </em>a voice complains to him, displeased. <em>Chocolate, then? </em></p><p>Elliott takes the synthesized chocolate and retreats to his room quickly. He launches himself into bed again, unwrapping the chocolate. He takes a big bite and instantly coughs it up, the taste of ash and dirt filling his mouth. He gags at the aftertaste, and instantly jumps up to grab water from the kitchenette.</p><p>Anita hadn’t left, raising an eyebrow at Elliott. “Back again?”</p><p>“For water—that chocolate was <em>disgusting! </em>What’s wrong with the synthesizer?”</p><p>Anita, confuses, says, “It worked for me, I got a sandwich—it tasted fine. Are you okay?” Elliott shook his head, chugging a bottle of water. It tastes fine—thank God. He sighs after he finishes, crushing and tossing the plastic bottle in the recycling bin. “You should go visit Ajay.”</p><p>Elliott didn’t want one of her extensive checkups. He shivers. “Maybe.” Anita raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment further.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2 : Errors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Elliott stands next to Ajay as the Medbay techs—the ones who work on Pathfinder and Revenant—discuss what’ll happen—where they have to get spares for Revenant, and how they’ll retrieve the simulacrum’s data core.</p><p>“Ah—how long do you think it’ll take for the spare to arrive?” Elliott asks, tapping his finger idly against his thigh.</p><p>“Two days, maybe. At most, a week.” <em>How fun! </em></p><p>Elliott nods, and walks out of the Medbay, eyeing the schedule for the day. He’s got a trios match—fine, whatever, that’s okay. He walks towards his dorm, passing by Ajay. She offers him a small smile, but he can’t seem to work up the energy to return one. Elliott suits up in his dorm, testing the holotech briefly, just to make sure there’s no errors. With his recent upgrade, a few bugs and glitches in the software has been popping up, occasionally costing him easy fights.</p><p>As the other Legends chat pre-game, he lies on the couch in the dropship’s Commons—a small room with tiny spaces for each of the Legends to rest or unwind before killing their friends. Elliott drifts off to sleep, only to wake up a few minutes later by Caustic roughly dragging him from the couch. The holoengineer looks up, and sees that his team is Caustic and Natalie, who get along <em>fantastic </em>without him. In fact, he could probably just get carried this game—just leave it up to Team Science. Elliott stumbles onto the lowering platform, shrinking away from Caustic and moving so he stands as far away as he can—without falling off the platform, of course.</p><p>The harsh winter winds of World’s Edge hits him in the face, and he slips on his goggles, which—at the laziness of their creator—serve no real purpose. Wattson pings the Mirage Voy’age—a favorite place for people to go, Elliott eventually noticed, with some excitement—but Caustic instantly says no. As the timer counts down, Wattson pings the small set of buildings to the right of the Voy’age. Caustic reluctantly agrees, and Mirage leaps off the platform, sending Decoys to the Voy’age.</p><p>Wattson and Caustic follow him, eyeing the trails of newbies and Legends to their left. Mirage lands in front of one of the buildings, instantly opening the door and quickly grabbing everything inside the pale white building. He snags his favorite gun, the Wingman, and slips on a white bodyshield.</p><p>“It appears people have fled your boat, Mirage. Enemies approaching,” Caustic says, calm with a lilt of excitement. These buildings are his favorite—small, easy to fill with gas. As long as Mirage avoided his traps, things went well. Wattson hums and places fences where Caustic didn’t put traps—everyone had soon learned that the electricity and the gas were not a good mix. Mirage approaches the door to leave and climb on the roof—it was far easier to get headshots with that angle, and when the newbies eventually stumble outside, gassed and dying, he wanted to finish the job quickly. God knows Caustic won’t.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Outside the door. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Mirage blinks in surprise as the door swings open, a vicious-looking newbie instantly sending an entire R-99 magazine his way. Mirage, startled by the warning, barely manages to roll out of the way, before sending three Wingman shots at the newbie. One of them hits, nearly cracking their bodyshield. The same voice as before commands, <strong><em>Draw him closer. </em></strong></p><p>Mirage stumbles backwards, towards the set of traps. “What? Are you cowering?!” <em>Nope—just following my own instructions. </em>The newbie blindly chases after Mirage, running into a trap that instantly fills the hall with gas. An invisible hand guides the blinded holoengineer’s shots—he hits every one, Mozambique drilling the newbie. The voice from before informs Mirage, <strong><em>Caustic is killing their teammate…so what coward is </em>hiding <em>from us?</em></strong></p><p>“Probably a smart coward,” Mirage mutters to himself, shaking his head. “Either I’m tired or I’m…” <strong><em>You’re tired. A drawback to being a skinsuit. </em></strong>Mirage shudders, flinching as the gas trap sinks down in front of him. A trail of blood shows where the newbie crawled off to, and Mirage stalks along the path, trying his best to convince himself his inevitable, sudden sanity break <em>isn’t </em>going to leave him hearing voices, especially not one that calls him skinsuit—and especially not one that sounds like the dead robot.</p><p>“You know what? I think someone’s messing with the comms.” <strong><em>You meatbags are so dense. </em></strong>“Is it Crypto? Did he buff himself too? Man, I should’ve expected that.” <strong><em>You know you’re wrong.</em></strong></p><p>When he reaches the end of the blood trail, Mirage lifts the newbie up by his flared collar and looks them in the eye, Wingman at their gut. “Don’t get tunnel vision. I’ve got teammates, too.” Involuntarily, the holoengineer gently readjusts his grip by slightly tossing the newbie up and simply grabbing their throat, before snapping their neck. <strong><em>Don’t give advice to your enemies. </em></strong></p><p>“I just—” <strong><em>I</em> <em>made it cleaner. Isn’t that what you skinsuits prefer?</em></strong> “Not by <em>snapping </em>his neck!” Mirage mutters, shaking his head.</p><p>“Elliott,” Caustic grumbles in the comms. “Who are you speaking to?” <em>Well, the answer ‘the voice inside my head that suspiciously sounds like Revenant’ isn’t an option… </em></p><p><strong><em>Why not tell them? You’ll either be looked at like a madman—and that’s something I’d</em></strong> <strong>kill <em>to see, or a ticking time bomb. One step away from a mass murdering spree. Like me! Wouldn’t that be fun?</em></strong></p><p>“Nope, not really,” Mirage audibly replies, earning a small look from Wattson, who had just walked up to loot the newbie’s deathbox</p><p>“<em>Mon ami</em>? Are you alright?” she questions, brows knitted in confusion and concern. Mirage nods, dismissing her question. He takes the zipline up to the Voy’age—picked clean and littered with half-looted deathboxes, but still inhabited.</p><p>Instantly, bullets brush past him, and he instinctively sends a Decoy to the enemy team—the poor hologram quickly shot, revealing the enemy. A wash of cold overtakes Mirage and he watches as a Shadow version of himself forms beside him, winks at him and jumps towards the enemy team, moving faster than humanly possible. The team shooting at him screams—one of them is <em>very</em> audibly killed, the Shadow stomping on their head. Mirage chances a peek out from his cover, and watches the Shadow tear apart the terrified Squad, laughing in what sounds like a bell ringing—the one from the Lounge. Mirage pales as his Shadow tears a young newbie’s throat out, making a mess before stilling and staring at Mirage. It’s voice briefly grows louder, before it disperses.</p><p>“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck—”</p><p>“You eliminated a whole Squad!” Wattson cheers, having just arrived. “Good job!” She notices Mirage’s pale features, and gently puts a hand on his shoulder as he slinks down his cover. He holds a hand over his mouth, looking nauseous. Wattson cocks her head, unaware of the deep maniacal laughter ringing in his head. <strong><em>Hah! Look at them, felled by a single Shadow!</em></strong></p><p>
  <em>What was that?</em>
</p><p><strong><em>You! </em></strong>the voice replies, gleeful in his own way. <strong><em>Well, the better ‘you.’</em></strong></p><p><em>Why are </em>you<em> here?</em></p><p>At that, the voice went silent. After Mirage stood, helped by Wattson, the voice spoke up again. <strong><em>I’m here because you were there when I died. I can’t have my soul floating about, can I? Any random skinbag could find it.</em></strong></p><p>Mirage blanches at the thought of having any part of the creature <em>with </em>him, much less <em>in </em>him… “That’s weird,” he audibly mumbles, cringing at himself. <strong><em>Just live. I’ll be on my way when the spare arrives…</em></strong></p><p>
  <em>You promise? </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>You know me. I’m trustworthy.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Caustic drags Mirage out from behind cover, nearly carrying him. “Hey-hey! Watch it!”</p><p>“Unless you’d like to die by the Ring, I suggest you stop talking to yourself and <em>move</em>.” <strong><em>He’s right, move. </em></strong></p><p>Mirage involuntarily leaps off the Voy’age, barely stumbling as he lands, but wincing at the shooting pain in his shin. <strong><em>I forgot you skinbags are so fragile when it comes to heights, </em></strong>Revenant offers as both an insult and an excuse. Mirage moves against the lingering pain, and grabs a purple heavy mag. He quickly reloads the Wingman before running ahead, much to the dismay of his ‘stay here and set up’ teammates. Reflexively, the holoengineer sends out a Decoy, who runs towards the small oasis set of buildings. A bullet passes through it near instantaneously. The little ping that shows where it was shot shows that the assailant is standing in the oasis, in one of the buildings.</p><p>“Guess we’ve got another fight…” <strong><em>That fast? This’ll be more fun than I thought…</em></strong></p><p>Wattson asks, knowing the answer, “Do you really wish to fight them?”</p><p>“Yep!”</p><p>Much to Caustic’s exasperation, Mirage slides down the zipline and slips into a building adjacent to the occupied ones. “If you’re gonna tear people apart, now would be great.” <strong><em>But that would spoil all the fun. </em></strong>“Oh, <em>now </em>you care?” <strong><em>They’re approaching… </em></strong></p><p>Mirage freezes briefly at the sound of a door being kicked open, along with the roar of Bloodhound channeling their ult. The Hunter charges up the stairs and levels their golden Spitfire at the holoengineer, who ducks under the spray of fire. Mirage stills as, when the Hunter trains their aim perfectly, his skin prickles and flashes black, draping him in shadow. Bloodhound barely flinches as Mirage lurches forward, gun forgotten, and rips the Spitfire from the Hunter’s grasp, roaring at them. He tears at their suit, barely making an indent in the thick fabric. Instead of going for the body, he decides to go straight for the kill—unfortunately, the Hunter’s reflexes are quite sharp. They catch the holoengineer’s wrist, merely inches away from them. “Elliott?” they whisper, barely holding Mirage’s clawed hand from their throat. “What—”</p><p>“Tell the Allfather I said hi,” Revenant growls from the Shadow, plunging a blade-like hand into Bloodhound’s throat. Instead of becoming downed, Bloodhound struggles against a growing shadow forming at their throat, consuming them. <em>Don’t do this to them—they don’t deserve it. </em>“Fine,” the Shadow grumbles to itself, displeased. The shadow around the Hunter dissipates, and their deathbox springs towards Mirage, who catches his breath. The Shadow version of himself had receded, but he still tentatively moved his fingers to see if he could. </p><p>The sound of footsteps charging up the stairs makes Mirage snap his attention to the entrance. He stands quickly, aiming his Wingman at the stairs. Another newbie charges up and is instantly killed, falling to their knees. <strong><em>Can we take from this one? </em></strong><em>That’s a </em>you <em>thing. Not a ‘we’ thing. </em></p><p>As Mirage heads down the stairs, he feels the bullet wounds closing on their own. Shadows splotch over the wounds, the fibers of his skin closing with a painful amount of detail. He sighs, ignoring the urge to scratch at the healing wounds. Downstairs, he sees Caustic standing above a deathbox, offering Wattson the occasional attachment. She sets up fences otherwise, blocking doorways and ensuring it’s difficult to destroy the nodes.</p><p>“You’ve shown a remarkable amount of capability, only matched by your recklessness. What’s different?” Caustic casually asks, as though that wasn’t a backhanded compliment. Wattson glances at Mirage, as though awaiting his answer, as well.</p><p>“First of all,” Mirage scoffs. “<em>Rude</em>. Second, nothing’s different! I guess the little tweaks did the trick, or I’m feeling lucky!” <strong><em>‘Lucky’.</em></strong></p><p>Caustic’s suspicious glare only increases, but slowly tapers off. He’s resigned himself not to interrogate his obviously-very-different teammate in the midst of a match, that wouldn’t be wise. His ice-cold gaze flits up again as Mirage peers out the door, careful not to touch the fences. Curiosity bubbles up, like acid in a vial, but the chemist shoves it aside.</p><p> </p><p>Final ring, and Mirage has been choking back the paranoia since top five. It’s three squads left, and he’s seen almost none of the other Legends. Revenant has been eerily quiet, even through resulting skirmishes he’s encountered. The simulacrum hadn’t helped him through a skirmish, either, which made him nervous. What if he’s only gotten through this with the help of the damn <em>demon </em>of the group? Scratch that—he <em>definitely </em>only got this far with his help. What’ll happen when the spare arrives? Will Elliott just… lose? Lose so much his fans leave? Will he lose so much that the Games will kick him out—he’ll have to run a normal bar, just known as the ex-Holographic Trickster who’s still got his holograms—<strong><em>Stop thinking. You’re bothering me. </em></strong><em>Oh great I’m even—<strong>What did I say?</strong></em></p><p>Elliott stops for a moment, but even he can’t shut out the subconscious. Revenant barely restrains himself from poking around in the skinbag’s thoughts. He doesn’t care about the driver of this taxi, merely the destination. “Two Squads left, guys, c’mon. Let’s find ‘em.”</p><p>“How about we find a place to settle? I can plant my fences and Dr. Caustic can place traps where my fences would be too noticeable?” Wattson suggests, rubbing a bit of blood between her fingers, where it had stained her gloves. She cringes slightly.</p><p>“Fine, fine, but if they don’t come closer I’m sending Decoys their way.”</p><p>After a few minutes of waiting, Elliott hears a small click of the tongue in the back of his head. <em>What? Are you impatient or something? <strong>Let me take over, skinbag. </strong>Yeah, that’s a </em>wonderful<em> idea. <strong>It is. I can take control with force, merely wanted to indulge a courtesy. But, if you’re going to be like that… </strong></em></p><p>It’s hours before Elliott wakes up, and he immediately notices the slick feeling on his hands. He chances a glance downwards and sees his front drenched in blood, dark and <em>sticky. </em>The scent of copper floods his nose, and he nearly gags. A nurse stares at him, shocked by him jolting to consciousness. “What happened?”</p><p>“You… Mr. Witt, you passed out after your win in the ring, likely from exertion,” she says, quietly, not looking him in the eye. She looks as pale as he feels, clearly perturbed by however he won.</p><p>A burning, regretful curiosity leads him to ask, “How?” The nurse doesn’t respond but shows Elliott footage of himself in the arena. He tore apart the entire second-to-last Squad, relentless and weaponless. Any bullets sent his way were absorbed in a mass of shadow he charged forwards with. He would use anything he had—teeth, claw, he even knocked a few unconscious with headbutts. Cries from helpless newbies went ignored. As the final Squad dwindled to one person with a self-revive, Elliott stalked towards them, ignoring their pleas for mercy. He brought them up to face level, muttering something the cameras couldn’t pick up. Then, he dropped the opponent to the ground and Elliott watched as a Shadow grew from his silhouette, reaching and absorbing the final enemy.</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Look at us! Shit gets done when I’m in control, eh?</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Elliott shakes, clutching at his sleeves. <em>You’re still here? <strong>Of course. What do you expect? One massacre and I leave? </strong>You </em>ate <em>someone! <strong>They were a battery. We needed to recharge.</strong></em></p><p>“Am…am I clear to leave?” he asks hesitantly, receiving a curt nod. He immediately jumps off the table he woke up on and sprints to his room, where he grabs regular, blood-free clothes. He also takes anything technological and puts it on top of his dresser to be cleaned later, leaving only the fabric suit. He heads towards the communal showers—wait. Elliott flushes as he carefully holds the plain grey clothing away from his blood-soaked front, beginning to overthink. “This’ll be awkward,” he mumbles near-silently, slipping inside the linoleum-covered communal showers. He peels off the suit, cringing at the blood that had soaked through the fabric.</p><p>He takes a brief shower, trying to leave as fast as possible. He does so in relative silence, which is a blessing in of itself.</p><p>After dressing and ignoring the rapid-fire texts from his mother awaiting him back in his room, asking and pleading for a reason he fucking <em>tore </em>people apart, he heads to the Commons, where every Legend sits. He casually sits in a plush chair, opting to avoid the people he’s absolutely <em>positive </em>know what he did.</p><p>Natalie glances his way, before looking at Caustic. “Elliott. What happened in the arena?” Elliott flinches, but remains silent. He couldn’t speak, if he’s honest. The fear they’ll judge him—look at him like a madman, like Revenant said, or a monster. His eyes flit downwards and remain there. Renee, who is lying beside Natalie, narrows her eyes at her friend. The voices mutter amongst themselves, confused.</p><p>Renee casually says—or maybe sarcastically, it was hard to tell, “You know, Elliott, even the voices don’t know what’s going on. You must’ve gotten into some shit that hasn’t happened before.”</p><p>Elliott offers a small laugh, but it’s strained and fake. <strong><em>I may have not given your friends as much credit as they deserve…</em></strong><em>Yeah, they’re smart. Sucks for me.</em></p><p>“Yeah, really? I guess.” He turns back to his phone. Pathfinder steps in, the normal bounce to his step.</p><p>“Hello friends! Would you like to see friend Elliott’s win?” Pathfinder suggests, cheerful. He eyes Elliott with a ‘hi, fucker, here’s the mess you’ve made’ look, conveyed through the single optic.</p><p>“Please don’t do that, Path,” Elliott pleads slightly, not wanting the others to get a rerun of his massacre. <strong><em>Our massacre, skinbag. Don’t take all the credit. You’re like a gun in my hands—sure </em>you’re <em>doing all the work, but I’m pulling the trigger. </em></strong></p><p>“Why not, friend? It was impressive!” Pathfinder reasons, his smiley face bright on his chest. Anita, who’s been lounging on a chair of her own, remarks, “Yeah, <em>Elliott, </em>it was impressive. C’mon Path, show us the win.”</p><p>Elliott watches as Pathfinder displays a bloody, half-Shadow Elliott running through the Ring, roaring as he finds things to rip into. It isn’t at all the bell chiming voice of his Shadow. <strong><em>When I get my spare, Pathfinder better send me the footage of us. </em></strong></p><p>The holographic trickster looks away from the display, but flinches at the sounds. Anita raises an eyebrow. “Care to explain that?”</p><p>Elliott laughs nervously. “Bad lighting?” Anita’s eyes widen in disbelief.</p><p>“Elliott. You turned into a <em>fucking demon. </em>And you’re going to—to blame it on <em>lighting?</em>”</p><p>“Hey, I mean, it is an <em>outdoor </em>arena, they could’ve caught my bad side.” <strong><em>A bad side, alright. This is painful to listen to. I’m going to tell them, it’s better than dealing with this shit. </em></strong>“<em>Please </em>don’t do that,” he mutters quietly, catching everyone’s attention again.</p><p>“Do what?” Ajay asks, passing by the group, curiosity piqued by everyone’s suspicious gazes.</p><p>“Ah—not you. Nothing important.” <strong><em>I’m going to do it. </em></strong><em>You are </em>not <em>going to say shit. </em>“You know what? I’m gonna go work on my Decoys.” <strong><em>You’re going to leave? Really? </em></strong>He stands, ignoring the last comment, and strides back to his small room, which is filled with technology. <em>Ugh, I’ve got to clean these… </em>He thinks, holding the bloodied holotech in his hands. He grabs a cloth from his wardrobe and steps outside to run it under the kitchen sink, bearing a few more odd looks.</p><p>The tech is remarkably easy to clean, he just winces at every comment in his ear.</p><p>“Can you <em>stop?</em>” Elliott eventually hisses. <strong><em>Why? The silence is boring. </em></strong>“Yeah, deal with it.” He ignores the displeased growl he gets in reply. He finishes scrubbing the tech, admiring the lack of dark burgundy blood. He stands, and notices his hands shaking when he puts the tech back on it’s shelf. “Why am I…? Oh, haven’t eaten.” He remembers the chocolate, and cringes to himself. <strong><em>Food… I miss that… </em></strong>“Right, you were the one that made me crave something that’ll kill me. Thanks,” Elliott casually complains, not bothering to spare a glance at the kitchenette, and looks to the synthesizer. He quickly gets water, then sighs. “I’m going to <em>have</em> to eat, aren’t I?” <strong><em>I forgot how painful it was to be that hungry…Another downside to being a skinsuit. </em></strong>“I’m glad you can feel it too, buddy.” He makes chocolate again and braces himself for the ashy taste. It’s less intense, so he relaxes.</p><p>The resulting meal of everything he’d usually hate certainly draws some eyes, and he contentedly carries it back to his dorm, along with as much water could fit in a bag. <em>Hey, I’m curious, could you taste the chocolate? <strong>No. </strong>Cool, I’m not the only one. <strong>It was…ashy. Like when I was choking on smoke and soot—what was it? 2472-38? </strong>You really don’t have to tell me. </em></p><p>Elliott cringes as the memory of helplessly searching through a burning building—chasing and feeling for an exit not blocked by flames or debris. He feels the flames singe his hair, the burning on his fingers when the debris meant to be shoved away merely led to more flames. He tries not to cry out, despite the blinding pain, but a yelp escapes him. “Can you <em>stop?!</em>” he hisses, and the memory flashes. He notices the tears pouring down his face and quickly wipes them away. <strong><em>Why? I deal with them all the time…</em></strong></p><p> </p><p>Renee isn’t stupid. Sure, she’s not a certified “genius” (heavy emphasis on the quotes, replace ‘genius’ with ‘fucking sociopath’) like Alexander Nox—sorry, ‘Doctor Caustic’, but she’s certainly not as dense as the others. As Elliott headed toward his room, armfuls of foods he’d crinkle his nose at, she followed, eyes pure white as the voices chattered. At one point, she phased into his room, Elliott having glanced backwards at the behest of the creature possessing him. She could have already guessed—only Revenant was capable of the Shadow antics in the Ring. It was plainly obvious—Anita merely didn’t want to accept it. What’s so hard to accept? They’ve seen some fucked up shit. Possession shouldn’t surprise them. Especially when the possessor creates a <em>magic totem</em> to give your soul to.</p><p>She watched as Elliott choked down food he clearly didn’t like, then chugged down more water he’d normally have in a week. At one point, he stilled, and an expression of silent, seeing anguish covered his face. He visibly grit his teeth, and tears began to prickle at his eyes. Eventually, he spoke aloud, and that’s when the voices chimed in with, <strong><em>he’s not in danger.</em></strong></p><p><em>He’s…not? </em>No way. Revenant was going to do something—decay him from the inside out, get him killed, turn him into a shadow… Renee cuts off her own thought process. No use going down that rabbit hole. She stares down at Elliott, who’s resumed munching on food, if a little perturbed. “You know, you really need to see a therapist…” Elliott mutters to himself, before scoffing at whatever answer he gets. “No, really. Flashbacks? Isn’t that… uh… PTSD?” Renee raises an eyebrow. Flashbacks? For a robot?</p><p>“Eh? Renee? What?” He asks suddenly, still not having seen her. She stills, eyes narrowing. “Yeah—what are you—” Elliott looks up, and flinches harshly at the sight of a crouched Renee. “How did you get here?!” he shrieks, making Renee flinch. He cocks his head briefly and looks away. “Right. Phasing.”</p><p>Renee narrows her eyes. “Can I speak with Revenant for a second?” Elliott laughs nervously, and says, “What—what’re you—”</p><p>“I’m not an idiot, Elliott. I can tell. Plus…” she gestures to her head. “They’ve told me enough.”</p><p>“Right. Voices. I can’t keep secrets from you, huh,” Elliott laughs. “Sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t be.” She’s curt, and nearly accusatory. Despite feeling a little silly, she scowls, “Revenant?”</p><p>“He says—”</p><p>“No. I want to <em>see </em>him,” she grumbles, as though it was a chore. She slinks down from her perch, kunai held behind her back. After a moment of Elliott looking particularly fearful, he sighs, and his entire body erupts in smoke, his eyes a burning amber. The sparks begin, and he winces whenever one hits his skin.</p><p>
  <strong>“You think you’re <em>so </em>smart, don’t you? What’s the point in leaving the others in the dark, hm?”</strong>
</p><p>“Yeah, because you’d want front row seats to Ajay giving Elliott a lecture. I’m here,” she begins, kunai pointing at the shadow. “Because I have a plan. Those spares aren’t arriving until Tuesday. I can get you to the others, as long as you <em>leave everyone alone</em>.”</p><p><strong>“We’re fine,” </strong>Revenant snarks, shrinking away. Elliott quickly intrudes, “I’m not! Let’s go find those spares!” <strong><em>We are doing well together. What is the necessity in it? Don’t you want to win?! </em></strong>“I’d rather win on my own, thank you.”</p><p>“We’re going,” she deadpans, and opens a portal beside Elliott. “Go.” She drags Elliott up, and throws him inside. She follows suit, quiet.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 3 : Safeguards</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The warehouse is buzzing with life, MRVNs working and cleaning around the mechanical husks. Floating robots peer and adjust some of the pipes above the shells—the massive pipes are dully roaring with whatever flows through them—before floating away, distracted by a different instruction. “Hey, so, where is this place?”</p><p>“Hammond’s Leviathan facility. It’s gotten fairly popular as of late.” <strong><em>Has it? Let’s destroy it.</em></strong></p><p>“And…uh… do you know where you’re going?” In truth, she doesn’t, but a small smile convinces the holoengineer she does. The voices command her around, leading to an open warehouse that houses several racks of simulacrum bodies. They’re mostly miscellaneous, discarded models. One of them is a slender, nearly perfect copy of a human, while another is uneven and bulky, clearly made for efficiency over aesthetic. Along its body, the Vinson Dynamics logo is printed.</p><p>“Right around here,” Renee mumbles, before moving towards the row of Revenant models. They’re creepy without the cowl…or glowing eyes. The hint of fear Elliott feels mingles with the curiosity of seeing yourself. It reminds him of the first time he had perfected the Decoys, and he watched himself walk around. Elliott smiles at the sight of the spares, and almost laughs in relief. “Cool! Okay, bud—you can leave now.” <strong><em>No. </em></strong>“Why—why not?” he still clings to the hope he can change his mind. <strong><em>Take an arm from one of the other shells. </em></strong>Elliott hesitantly backs up, confused, but cautious. Renee eyes him, raising an eyebrow at his reluctance. After a moment, she reaches for the simulacrum body, only to flinch back, the voices having yelled their warning louder than normal.</p><p>Elliott rips the arm off of a discarded and half-destroyed model lying on the floor of the warehouse, before Revenant adds, <strong><em>now throw it at one of me.</em></strong> He complies, and the second the metal clangs against the soulless body, an explosion erupts, engulfing the rack of simulacrum bodies. Renee instinctively phases out, avoiding the brunt of the blast while Elliott watches from a distance as his ticket to early freedom was burnt to nothing. <strong><em>I told you. You’re still stuck with me, skinsuit. You think they wouldn’t put safety nets around their warehouse? </em></strong></p><p>Elliott furrows his brows, before sighing. “Did we miss a keypad or-or a control room or something?” He runs his hand through his hair and looks askance. Renee phases back, visibly disgruntled. “Fuck,” she mutters, disappointed. “We’ve gotta find a way to kick you from the games until the spares—”</p><p>“I’ll be fine, okay? I can fight.” He shudders at the memory of blood soaking his front. <em>Definitely. </em></p><p>“But—”</p><p>Elliott interrupts, mostly not wanting to make it a big deal, “Just—it’ll be fine. Where’s that portal back?” Renee purses her lips slightly before waving Elliott along. She walks him back through the facility, avoiding the cameras again, carefully disabling the sentries they had avoided earlier. She always had a dataknife on her, which fortunately sunk easily into the neck of the Spectre model sentries. Eventually the two of them make it back to the rift. A sentry stands before it, staring at the wormhole as though it can’t compute it’s existence. Elliott mutters to himself, “Got anything for this guy?”</p><p>He waits for a moment, feeling a familiar tug as his shadow slinks from his body and, shortly after, the sentry is ripped apart from the inside out by Shadow-Elliott, who appears to cheer as he brushes off the wires and metal guts from his shoulders. The same bell-sounding voice makes Elliott smile, while Renee pales at the sight of one of the Shadows. “The hell is that thing?” she asks, having never actually seen a Shadow.</p><p>“It’s, uh, it’s me, I guess?” Elliott stutters, unsure how to explain his counterpart’s existence. The Shadow doesn’t disappear and offers a grin to Renee. He turns his attention to the rift, and pokes it, curiously. Revenant laughs slightly in Elliott’s head as his Shadow’s hand instantly dissipates after touching the rift. The Shadow stares at his wrist, before jumping into the rift.</p><p>Elliott casually follows suit, portalling back to his room, where Tae Joon stands, unimpressed. “Finally. You gonna spill what’s happening, old man?”</p><p>“Can you guys just leave me alone for a <em>second</em>? Everything’s fine! I’ve got it under control!” <strong><em>Do you? </em></strong>“I’m completely okay!” Tae Joon narrows his eyes as Renee portals in behind Elliott, the rift closing quickly. Ignoring the two, she phases out of Elliott’s room.</p><p>The hacker growls, “Don’t lie to me.”</p><p>Exasperated, Elliott begins to ask, “Listen—can I just announce it next game? I don’t—” he cuts himself off at Tae Joon’s look, before reminding himself it’s better to have the hacker off his back. He’s seen the occasional time a secret was kept from Tae Joon—he was subtle yet relentless as he looked for it. Kind of scary. “Fine, I’m currently a human taxicab for scary murderbot.” <strong><em>You say that like I’m the passenger…</em></strong> <em>You are! <strong>Because all passengers take the wheel and kill five people.</strong></em></p><p>Tae Joon pauses, eyes widened slightly, before realizing exactly what that means. “You let that <em>agma </em>possess you?” <strong><em>There it is again. ‘Demon’. </em></strong>“Why <em>you</em>?”</p><p>Elliott raises an eyebrow, mildly offended at the pure disbelief in his voice. “What’d’ya mean by <em>that</em>?”</p><p>“It’s just…” Tae Joon thinks for a moment. “Actually, you’re probably the best person to get possessed.” Elliott blinks, still slightly offended. <strong><em>The synthskin isn’t wrong. As much as I despise you, skinsuit, you’re the least bothersome. </em></strong>“Thanks?” Elliott replies to both of them. <strong><em>The phasing skinsuit has her voices. They would get annoying. Everyone else is far too happy. And the synthskin’s paranoia would be a hinderance. </em></strong><em>Thanks for the reassurance, Rev. <strong>Don’t get comfortable. The second I’m out I’ll disembowel you. For fun. </strong></em></p><p>Elliott shudders, before realizing Tae Joon was talking. “—it’s an illogical idea. They can’t let you play. If the carnage you committed today continues, people will start to look too deeply into the reasons why.”</p><p>He had a point.</p><p>“Hey, maybe they’ll write it off as a fluke!”</p><p>“What they <em>won’t </em>ignore, even if they ignore you,” Tae Joon begins again, interrupting Elliott. “Is the disappearance of their prized villain. The bad guy of this show. Sure, Nox is <em>a </em>bad guy, but he’s too devoted to science. Revenant is <em>actively </em>their villain.” <strong><em>I’m not </em>actively <em>their villain! How dare the pathetic synthskin think I’m trying to show off to the skinsuits. </em></strong></p><p>“Maybe they’ll think he left to do something?”</p><p>“What, like a hobby?” Tae Joon scoffs. “Like he’d get bored of recreational murder.” <strong><em>Why are we still listening to him? </em></strong>The hacker somehow stares down at Elliott while being shorter, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Come on, you know the officials. They’ll make up some story, and everyone will believe it if it means their favorite killer comes back.” <em>Why is he answering his own question?</em></p><p>A prickle of irritation creeps up on Elliott, and he notices his hands twitch. “Hey, so, I’m gonna go to sleep, which was my original plan before Renee came in here, so can you, y’know?”</p><p>With a disappointed look, Tae Joon relents. “Fine. See you in the ring, old man.” He leaves swiftly, shutting the door behind him. <em>What’s his deal? </em></p><p>Revenant remains silent, but a bubbling anger begins to rise, and he fidgets. “Did you, uh, take all of that to heart?” A robotic sigh makes Elliott worry. <strong><em>We’ll see him in the ring. </em></strong><em>Remarkable amount of self-control you’re expressing right now. I’m so proud! <strong>Shut up. </strong></em></p><p>Elliott smiles before launching himself into bed, avoiding the bag of water and snacks. He falls asleep relatively quickly, his eyelids dragging down involuntarily.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 4 : Wolves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Holographic Trickser, Translocating Thief, and the Surveillance Expert.</p><p>What a team. </p><p>Crypto eyes Mirage as the team sinks down on the platform. The trickster is grinning like normal, excited to fight. Loba impatiently waits for the platform to sink down, energy high after being absent from the matches briefly. She had to attend to an outside issue.</p><p>“So, Loba, where are you thinking of landing?” Mirage asks, earning a small raise of her eyebrow.</p><p>“Wherever you’d like, darling,” she replies, eyes scanning the desert of King’s Canyon. She preferred Containment for its high vantage points she could teleport to, but always enjoyed adapting to random spots. Crypto prefers Slums with its multitude of blocking points and hiding spots. He looks at his recent installment in the map, a gigantic satellite dish that could scan everyone on the map. He also looks at the multitude of trails leading to the dish.</p><p>Mirage shrugs and leaps off, soaring towards the Pit. Loba and Crypto follow, the former laughing as she twirls her staff in the air. Mirage sends out a few Decoys, sending them to Slums. Despite doing this hundreds of times, he can’t get over just how <em>fun </em>skydiving is. The same rush of adrenaline hits him every time—it’s almost his favorite part of the whole Game, beat only by the rush of winning.</p><p>The three of them land in Pit, immediately moving to grab whatever they can. Another team lands shortly after, several newbies and Bangalore. She probably was complaining about being teamed up with ‘FNGs’. The soldier instantly finds a P2020—she levels her aim at Mirage, firing several rounds at the currently weaponless Legend. He merely had sights and attachments, as well as a bodyshield.</p><p>He swiftly ducks behind an open loot crate, the bullets of the P2020 bouncing off the metal next to his face. Without being prompted, Mirage’s Shadow leaps out of his body, jumping onto the lid of the loot crate and launching himself onto Bangalore, ripping her gun out of her grasp and tossing it behind him, into Mirage’s grasp. Over the comms, he can hear Crypto announce he downed someone, only to cut himself off with an abrupt, near-silent gasp. Mirage peeks out and sees his expression—eyes wide, fear paling his features. He glances at Mirage, who nods, looking at him with the general air of ‘see! I told you!’.</p><p>Loba quickly calls out that she felled someone as well, before the <em>crack </em>of her snapping someone’s neck makes Mirage flinch. She turns around only to gasp far louder than Crypto, the breath itself cut off. She instantly shoots the Shadow in the back, causing him to stop choking Bangalore. The soldier immediately throws the Shadow off of her, kicking it in the head. Loba briefly turns her attention to Bangalore and fires her Flatline into the soldier, quickly eliminating her. The Shadow rises, it’s jaw missing and a small indent in its back the only evidence that it was injured. The two marks immediately heal, and Loba sends an entire magazine into the Shadow, forcing it to disappear.</p><p>“Why was there a <em>shadow </em>here. The demônio is nowhere to be seen,” she snarls, fixing her attention at Mirage, who stands slowly. “And why did it look like you.”</p><p>“Ah—haha, it’s a long story, can we just get to Market or—”</p><p>Without another word, Loba shoots the trickster’s knee. He very, <em>very </em>loudly swears, and leans backwards to lie down as he clutches at it. “God—what’d you—” <em>Do something! Please!</em></p><p>Loba stands over him, the end of her Sentinel resting on his forehead, a deep scowl on her face. “You’re not involved with the demônio, are you?” <em>Why is everyone so mean?!</em></p><p>“He’s possessing him. Don’t kill him, as much as he deserves it, I’d rather not be down a teammate this early.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Loba turns to Crypto, keeping her Sentinel on Mirage’s head.</p><p>“What? Generic ghost stuff. Possession. Let’s get moving.” The hacker deploys his drone, which quickly flies towards a nearby banner, displaying the Champion Squad. In the drone’s view, it says a Squad is close to them.</p><p>Loba stares down at the holographic trickster and leans forward slightly. “What’s stopping me from killing you?”<strong><em>…Can she? </em></strong></p><p>Mirage blinks at the hope in the simulacrum’s voice. <em>Do you </em>want <em>to? </em>In answer, he involuntarily says, <strong>“Can you hurry up, then?”</strong></p><p>Crypto, having quickly recalled his drone, drags Loba aside, dragging the startled Mirage up. “We’re going. A Squad’s in the area.” <strong><em>How unfortunate. </em></strong><em>Wait. I was shot in the—<strong>I fixed it for you. </strong></em></p><p>“We’re not gonna fight them?”</p><p>“Not in here. They’re probably by Bunker—I bet Nox and Natalie are knee-deep in gore at this point.” Mirage nods, and continues forward, stumbling towards the small choke with loot crates in front of it. He manages to get a shield and cells, as well as a Mobile Respawn Beacon—an uncommon item most of the Legends were hesitant to use. The second crate revealed a Mozambique and a Prowler, both of which quickly snagged by the weapon-less Mirage.</p><p>The three of them travel the map silently, Loba stealing suspicious looks at Mirage. Crypto was by far the boldest of the group, leading them through chokes and from cover to cover when they had to traverse an open area.</p><p>“Anyone near us?” Mirage eventually asks as they approach a bunker, the hatch open and clearly looted.</p><p>“Two Squads. They’re the ones shooting over there,” Crypto replies, pinging the general area where he heard gunfire. Almost in an instant, a bullet whizzes past Mirage’s face, and he instinctively dips into cover while sending out a Decoy. It’s shot as it passes out of cover, revealing an assailant with a high perch. Loba peeks from her cover and hits a Sentinel shot, quickly ducking back into cover.</p><p>As expected, Mirage’s Shadow clambers out of his body, crawling above the trickster’s cover, only to get shot in the head. It dissipates instantly, causing Mirage to panic slightly. <em>Damn, I really </em>was <em>relying on Rev. You got anything for this?</em></p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Skinsuit, I need you to push. </em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Are you insane? I’ll get killed instantly!</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>What’re your Decoys good for, then?</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Mirage frowns, before looking to Loba and Crypto. “I’m gonna go for it.”</p><p>“Are you—<em>you’ll get—</em>”</p><p>With a determined look, Mirage cuts the hacker off with, “Trust me.” <em>This is so stupid what do you have planned?!</em></p><p>Mirage sends a Decoy out from behind cover before sprinting towards Cage, swiftly deploying his ultimate, watching as each hologram is picked off as he beelines it towards the enemy. The enemy, sat atop a balcony on the higher floors of the Cage, stands up and shoulders their Longbow. As Mirage slides into the first floor, he begins to cough. The feeling of blood coming up his throat makes him pause, and he puts a hand over his mouth, expecting to see red. <em>Was I shot?</em> Instead, orange smoke curls from his lips, floating upwards with a determined speed.</p><p>
  <em>No fucking way. </em>
</p><p>A moment later, the resounding <em>thud </em>of a body hitting the ground from high up makes Mirage flinch. “Sniper’s…down…” he calls out, watching as Loba and Crypto hurriedly make their way towards him. He steps outside to see the body and waits to see the smoke again. He flinches when Revenant mutters something unintelligble. <em>You know, you’re really overpowered. </em><strong><em>That’s what happens when you’re not limited by the Games’s rules. Unfortunately, I gave a little too much to do that… so you’ll be on your own for a while. Win, or I’ll drag you to hell along with me.</em></strong></p><p>It was a newbie sporting a RE-45 and a Longbow, their only unique feature being a robotic arm and a cybernetic eye, which was likely why they hit almost every shot. <em>Whaddya mean ‘limited’?</em></p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Do you understand what I can do?</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Mirage almost says he does, then realizes the robot probably hasn’t shown his full set of tricks. Despite everything about him, Revenant’s still <em>smart. </em></p><p>Loba, noticing the lack of bullets, burn marks, or shrapnel marks, frowns. “How’d you get him?” Mirage blinks, snapping out of his train of thought. “Oh! Rev just dragged ‘em down.” <strong><em>It’s fun to feel them panic as they realize they’re about to die. </em></strong>“Efficient, huh?”</p><p>The thief’s frown turns back into a scowl. She throws her bracelet up and teleports swiftly, leaving Mirage to sort through the deathbox, hesitantly pinging the sniper ammo, practically <em>feeling </em>Loba’s scoff. <strong><em>Girlie’s not gonna like you until I’m gone, skinsuit. </em></strong><em>‘Girlie’? <strong>What? </strong>We don’t call grown ass adults ‘girlie’. <strong>How about ‘bitch?’ </strong>Ah. Uh. No. </em></p><p>“Hey where’s the rest of the—oh fuck,” Mirage sprints behind cover as bullets ricochet off of the metal walls of Cage. He sucks in a breath before climbing up to join Loba and Crypto, the latter already having had zipped up to the second-to-top floor. The three of them join together, avoiding the <em>crack </em>of a Kraber. “<em>Already?!” </em>Mirage exclaims, having full-body flinched at the gunshot. Loba fires thrice at the intruders, her Sentinel charged. The equally as scary <em>twang </em>of Disruptor charged shots makes Mirage realize, perhaps, he should have taken a sniper rifle. He looks at the Wingman he has holstered and the R-99 currently on his back. The Wingman has a Skullpiercer, but the attachment-less R-99 is practically useless at long range.</p><p>Mirage aims, tongue sticking out slightly, and proceeds to send a charged Wingman shot through a newbie’s skull, their head snapping backwards as they fall, downed. Their teammate rushes out, only to get cleared by Loba, who smirks in satisfaction as their deathboxes spring up. She puts the Sentinel on her back and tosses her bracelet, waiting for it to land on the ground outside of Cage. Mirage curiously pokes Loba as she teleports, only to blink next to the deathboxes along with her. “Don’t do that again, demônio,” she casually says, only a little bite in her voice as she rummages through the deathboxes. One is blue, and the one holding the Kraber is quickly searched through, Loba shouldering the powerful sniper rifle, having replaced her Sentinel.</p><p>“Only six bullets… a pity. I’ll have to make my shots count.”</p><p>“That should be easy for you,” Mirage casually replies, ignoring the small mutter of ‘tsh, simp,’ from Crypto.</p><p>“Thank you, beau… tiful,” she responds, cringing slightly as she says it. “Park, there’s a Spitfire here. Purple heavy mag, too.”</p><p>“<em>Joh-eun. </em>Dibs.” Crypto slides down a walkway leading to Loba and Mirage, his drone trailing him. He swiftly grabs it, as well as ditching light ammo in exchange for loading up on heavy ammo. “<em>Gomayawa.”</em></p><p>“Only the best for my friends,” Loba answers, almost reflexively. “Hurry up. The Ring’s almost here, and we have to be ready for the next one.” Mirage nods, and heads towards the lush side of the canyon. It’s far too open, but a pleasant area. After looting the crates there, they go back towards the several huts next to Bunker, swiftly moving through the huts and grabbing anything of necessity.</p><p>“We’re in the Ring. Doesn’t seem like anyone—”</p><p>“Two Squads in the area.”</p><p>“Fuck,” Mirage tiredly mumbles, almost bored. It was top five, he would normally be paranoid by then. Maybe whatever Rev was doing was draining. <em>All regened up? </em>he asks Revenant, the simulacrum having been oddly silent.</p><p>The rustling of grass beside the trickster made him snap his attention to the solo running through the field, stumbling away from whatever made them a solo. Mirage casually sends a Wingman shot through their brain, and stalks forward, Loba and Crypto trailing him. The solo had fallen, but wasn’t dead. The telltale gold gleam of a level 4 knockdown shield made Mirage click his tongue. <strong>“<em>Awh. Almost free.</em>”</strong></p><p>He drags them up, a shadow spreading over their body, the terror in their eyes obvious and… satisfying. After a moment, they crumble into dark ash, their deathbox spawning from nowhere. <strong><em>Refreshing. </em></strong><em>Soul…stealing? Cliché. <strong>I’ll shut off your brain if you don’t stop. </strong>Then you’ll die. <strong>I’ll pilot the body around. Just a walking, shooting corpse. The Games don’t register your death until your heart stops, which means as long as I keep that little organ running, you’re not one of those deathboxes. </strong>That’s… uncomfortable. Also, you talk too much.</em></p><p>Mirage turns around from the deathbox, gold knockdown shield equipped, and realizes his teammates had watched him kill someone by disintegrating them. <em>You mentioned they’d think I was a ticking time bomb…? </em>Mirage watches as his teammates glance away, the air of disgust making the trickster’s stomach drop. <em>Do they think I’ll…?</em></p><p>“Let’s keep moving,” Crypto interjects, heading back towards their initial destination. The top five quickly dropped to top 3, a squad separate from them dying. In the fifth ring, Loba slams down her staff, able to steal most of the loot. They manage to snag better bodyshields from local deathboxes, Mirage and Loba grabbing golden ones. Mirage also grabs a golden backpack, while Loba waits for her teammates to finish looting. Crypto quickly grabs more ammo and a frag grenade, nodding to Loba who quickly takes back her staff.</p><p>A bullet whizzes past Mirage from a window, forcing him to duck behind the wall. “Shit shit shit,” he mutters quietly. Crypto sends out his drone, which quickly highlights the enemy. He activates the EMP as he switches out of drone view. The hacker swiftly sends a Longbow shot at the enemy, piercing their already compromised armor. “Push,” he commands, his teammates quickly complying. They easily bombard the enemy, several of Mirage’s Wingman shots practically halving their health. Loba efficiently sends half of her Flatline magazine into a weakened enemy, downing them. After Mirage lands his R-99 shots, the second enemy falls, quickly dying as Crypto finishes off his teammate. “One more squ—”</p><p>Crypto’s head snaps forward as he’s shot in the head from behind, the Kraber bullet cleanly passing through him, while the Game’s system forces him to be downed while half-blind, the bullet hole extending to his eye. He quickly ducks behind cover, where Mirage mutters hopeful nonsense, reviving his friend.</p><p>The sight of strings of meat connecting the inside of Crypto’s head absolutely entrances the trickster, who furrows his brows as he tries to pinpoint <em>what </em>those are. A pang of hunger startles him out of his staring, which quickly resumes as the hacker heals back. As the syringe works it’s magic, the flesh grows back with sickening shlick sound as his eye reforms. The hacker blinks rapidly, before nodding to Mirage, quickly getting back some shields.</p><p>The circle shifts to them, and Mirage sighs, thankful that the enemy’s perch will quickly be consumed by the Ring. Crypto sends out his drone, the buzzing robot quickly darting up towards the final team’s perch. The three enemies are scanned briefly before the drone is destroyed. “Assholes,” Crypto murmurs, annoyed. <strong><em>Let me do it again. Let me take control. </em></strong><em>No. <strong>No? </strong>I’m not doing that again. I can’t… I’m not going to come back to the dropship to that kind of suspicion. <strong>I told you they’d look at you like that, skinsuit.</strong></em></p><p>“Anyone got a plan?” Loba asks harshly as the Ring begins to usher the team to them.</p><p>“Uh—I have my ultimate, I can distract them?” Mirage offers, fear bubbling up, even if he’s done this hundreds of times before. He pauses as a zipline clicks into place beside their hiding spot. “Well fuck.” The sound of several people ziplining towards them forces them to move, firing at the Legends heading towards them. It’s Gibraltar, Octane, and Pathfinder, the daredevil of the group leaping off the zipline and landing on a jump pad he threw mid-air. Mirage, throwing caution to the wind, throws an Arc Star, only to laugh shortly as he hears Octane shout what he can assume is a curse in Spanish. Mirage watches Octane fly towards him, covered with electricity. Loba swiftly downs him, a relieved laugh escaping her.</p><p>Pathfinder cheerily fires a Devotion into Loba, easily ripping her apart, the thief downed as quickly as Octane. Mirage uses his ultimate, distracting the robot who’s screen briefly flashes a question mark. The trickster fires into the robot, splitting him through the center, his screen blacking out as he falls. “One down!” Mirage shouts to Crypto.</p><p>The sight of a flare makes Mirage audibly curse, forcing him to sprint to the ever-closing ring. A few moments afterwards, the explosions rain down, knocking Crypto who had managed to fully kill Octane and Pathfinder, preventing Gibraltar from reviving them. Mirage falls as well, the explosions managing to hit him. He sucks in a breath, crawling to cover while the burns from the bombardment send shooting, awful pains across his limbs. <strong><em>You skinsuits… I have to do everything, don’t I? </em></strong></p><p>Mirage shuts his eyes as Gibraltar approaches them—<em>him. </em>It’s just him. And he feels the tears well up as the pain of the burns intensifies with the dirt rubbing into them.</p><p>“Don’t worry bruddah—” he begins to say, only to get grabbed by the downed man. Gibraltar stills, his good natured-ness and confidence in his full health allowing Mirage to say his last words.</p><p>“Wai…” Mirage wheezes, involuntarily standing up. “What’re you doing?” Gibraltar blinks, thinking the trickster was talking to him.</p><p>“What do you mean?” the Fortress asks, only to freeze as he feels the teeth of a Prowler sinking into his throat. Mirage watches as the head of a Prowler extends from his chest, maw clamped around the kind man holding him up. The head goes one step further and rips Gibraltar’s throat out, before sinking back into Mirage’s chest, the blood staining the front of his suit.</p><p>The fortress falls, clutching at the wound, shifting backwards, slowly. <strong><em>Not quite dead… let’s drag this—</em></strong> Mirage quickly ends the fight with a snap of Gibraltar’s remaining neck, the Champion announcement echoing as he slumps on the ground. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…sorry,” Mirage repeats, lying facedown on the dirt. His vision fades in and out, exhaustion and pain mingling to create the most pathetic winner possible. <strong><em>Skinbag- we won! Get up! </em></strong><em>Nah. Everything hurts. <strong>Get UP.</strong></em></p><p>Mirage flinches involuntarily as he’s picked up by a robot, who carries him to a helicopter. The trickster groans in pain as he’s placed in one of the seats alongside Crypto and Loba, who help Mirage sit up. “Ffffuck.”</p><p>“You’re…” Loba scowls, blood soaking her white corset. “You tore through him.”</p><p>
  <strong>“We won.” </strong>
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</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 5 : Coins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re allowed out of the Games until the spares arrive.”</p><p>Elliott sighs in relief at the nurse’s statement, high off of the pain meds they gave him. Sure, Biogel and modern technology can do <em>wonders </em>for burns, but it still hurt like shit. The slick nano-tech infused gel was covering every burn on the trickster’s body, making him feel uncomfortably wet. “Do I still get paid?” The nurse—a kind woman named Suzie— nods, a warm smile on her face. The trickster is brought to a small ship which has the security he saw as he came back from his bar. They nod to him as he goes onboard, a small smile on his face.</p><p> </p><p>The ride back to his off-planet home was silent, aside from the dull droning of a movie and the high-pitched ‘what can I get for you, sir?’s from the flight attendant. Since it’s just him, she sat beside him when the tiredness on his face felt sad. They chatted for a little while, before the ship rumbled and the attendant was called away for something else.</p><p>Elliott drifted off to the rumbling of the ship, only to jerk awake after a nightmare. The mental image of cutting through the flight attendant, letting her intestines run through his fingers, lingered for a long while, making him pale when she returned. <em>Was that necessary? <strong>She’s a pathetic skinsuit.</strong> That’s not an answer. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous of me chatting with her. <strong>Jealous? Really? </strong>Yep. </em></p><p>The twinge of pain in his ribs made him chuckle. <em>Yep. Jealous. <strong>You’re nonchalant when my threat from earlier still stands. Now I can kill you for real. </strong>And you’ll kill you. But I bet they’ll bring you back somehow. Someway. <strong>They will. </strong>Who, by the way? <strong>Hammond. The Titan manufacturers. They had a little side project. The Simulacrum Project. </strong>Creative naming, I see. What happened to ‘Northstar’ and ‘Monarch’? Those are somehow more creative than that. <strong>Because ‘Scorch’ is so creative.</strong></em></p><p>Elliott paused as he realized he had gotten off track. <em>Right. Simulacrum Project. Sorry for getting distracted. <strong>It doesn’t matter. I’ve completed my work there. </strong></em></p><p>
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  </strong>
</p><p>The flight was short, fortunately, so when Elliott arrives home, he has enough energy to snag dinner and quickly call his mom, giving her a rundown—excluding the whole ‘possession’ thing—of why he’s not in the games for a few days. She’s understandably distraught about the whole ‘Shadow Prowler coming out of her son’s chest and tearing a man’s throat out’ but the distress is drowned out by the relief.</p><p>Elliott grabs a sandwich, pausing before eating it. “Is there a way to eat something and actually taste it?” <strong><em>Not unless I leave. And that’s not happening. </em></strong>“Fine. Fine.” He quickly chokes down the food, swiftly drinking the cup of water set to the side. Still, he gags slightly, even after expecting the taste. <strong><em>Why are you so slow? </em></strong><em>I’m tired. That’s what happens when you fly to another planet. Just let me sleep for a bit.</em></p><p>Elliott sets the glass in the sink, before heading towards his room, leaving the suitcase with his holosuit on the ground before he leaps into the bed. His body aches as he sinks into the plush bed, tensing up briefly before settling. <strong><em>I don’t miss being tired. </em></strong><em>Okay? Pilot my body around if you still want to do things. <strong>While you sleep? </strong>Yep. </em>He falls asleep, the distant feeling of regret completely ignored.</p><p> </p><p>The trickster wakes up in the middle of the kitchen, immediately realizing that, perhaps, letting the murder robot pilot him around was not a good idea. He’s cooking pancakes, a plate full of them to the side, while the last of the batter is cooking on a pan. Curious, Elliott takes a piece of the pancake, noticing the perfectly fluffy insides, no slightly-cooked batter that would make it salty. He unthinkingly takes a bite, severely disappointed when it’s as ashy as normal. “Uh, why’d you make these?” <strong><em>Why does it matter? </em></strong>“You’re using my supplies?” <strong><em>Who cares. You can buy more.</em></strong></p><p>Elliott reluctantly lets it go, more confused as to why Revenant wouldn’t answer. He finishes the pancake and quickly eats it, before making coffee. He almost instinctively pours creamer, before remembering—instead he drinks the black coffee, the distant bitter taste overpowered with the flavor of soot. “Is it just water that’s not affected?” <strong><em>It doesn’t have a flavor, so yes. </em></strong>“You clearly aren’t a water connoisseur.” <strong><em>Sure, sure. The robot isn’t a water connoisseur. I wonder why. </em></strong>“I kn… Yeah. Makes sense.” <strong><em>Don’t you have a job? </em></strong>“Yep. I go in…” Elliott looks to the clock, which reads ’4:34’. “Oh fuck.” <strong><em>Twenty-six minutes to travel halfway across the city, open everything up, and look presentable? I don’t think you can do it. We can, though. </em></strong>Elliott blinks, before seeing a Shadow arm extend from his, splitting from the elbow joint. It waves slightly, before slinking back. “Uh… you’re very helpful.” <strong><em>Don’t take this for granted. I’m curious to… see the real world again. I haven’t been in a bar since I can remember. </em></strong></p><p>“Right.”</p><p>He quickly heads towards his room, subtly looking for evidence of whatever he might have done while marionetted by the murderbot. He quickly changes into his work clothes – a simpler version of his holosuit, with comfort over support. A slight breeze clues the holoengineer to the open window, which he immediately asks Revenant about. <strong><em>Relax, I didn’t do much. Just interacted with some of your… fans. </em></strong></p><p>Oh no. “You <em>didn’t. </em>The fuck did you do?” <strong><em>Mm… someone had sent you something. I wandered a little, found them, stuck a knife in their throat, you know how things are. </em></strong>“Wh—what did they send me?” <strong><em>Someone thought because it’s Solace that they can plant a proximity bomb at your front door. </em></strong>“Wouldn’t you have warned me anyway?” <strong><em>Maybe. </em></strong>Elliott shivers as he <em>feels </em>Revenant lean in, even if he can’t. <strong><em>Maybe not. </em></strong></p><p>“O-kay we’re heading to the Lounge. No creepy shit, no ‘taking control’, no Shadows. Got it?” <strong><em>No promises, skinbag. </em></strong></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>As Elliott sets up the bar, he notices his Shadow helping out before the Decoy emitters are fully charged, having needed to be recharged due to their disuse. He quietly lets that go—the thing was <em>helping </em>him, after all. The Shadow gleefully cleans off tables and puts down stools, as well as dusts off the shelves of liquor. He summons a duster with the same shadowy appearance as himself, before snapping on a maid outfit, jokingly. <em>Do you control the shadows? <strong>No. I create them, I can get rid of them, but they’re their own…creature.</strong> </em>The Shadow quickly changes into the holosuit, the small emitters on the shoulder a pulsing orange. <strong><em>I wonder if we can taste liquor. </em></strong></p><p>The Shadow quickly flips on the neon lights above the door, and disappears as soon as the Decoys flicker on. <strong><em>You might want to put a sign on the door about the mirror… </em></strong></p><p>Elliott blinks as he remembers that, silently gesturing for one of the Decoys—Dett, specifically—to put the sign up. “Did you break that?” <strong><em>No. One of your ‘unruly patrons’ did.</em></strong></p><p>Dett gives Elliott an odd look, reminding the trickster to break the habit of talking out loud. Toby offers a similar look, while Roger merely ignores him.</p><p>The door opens along with a small chime, startling Elliott. “Hey-o Christy!” he calls out, to a young woman who immediately made an impression on him. Sure she’s not a ‘regular’, but asking for what essentially equates to a mint-ini with ‘the strongest liquor you’ve got’ certainly struck him as unusual. What Elliott nervously made was the aforementioned mint-ini with a shot of absinthe, which she quickly chugged down before wrinkling her nose, and asking for another.</p><p>Roger’s eyes light up at the sight of the wittiest patron, and cheerily asks if she wants her usual. The police chief immediately replies with a curt ‘yep’ before sliding into her normal spot. The bell rings once more to a newcomer who initially steps on the creaky floorboard that Elliott had been meaning to fix. They immediately flinch at the noise, before sneering to themself. They slide into a stool two seats away from Christy, who eyes the newcomer carefully. Dett, with his usual saunter, walks towards the newcomer and casually asks what he’d like. The gruff-voiced newcomer growls out, “Whiskey.” Dett’s eyes flutter in a desperate attempt not to roll his eyes. “On the rocks? Neat? Straight up?” Dett grins as he adds, “Or in one of those girly drinks you guys look down on?”</p><p>“Neat.”</p><p>Dett sighs as he turns to grab the glass and the bottle. “Not much of a talker. How disappointing.” The newcomer grumbles something under his breath. Toby balks at his counterpart’s boldness in front of customers. Elliott pretends to be one of the Decoys, which is how he overhears everything. Christy casually chats with Roger, their conversation surface level.</p><p>A few hours pass and people come and go, Christy leaving briefly before returning, an exhausted look on her face. The One Worder stays the entire time, nursing drinks and never <em>appearing </em>drunk. Dett managed to get a few more words out of him, mostly through casual flirting.</p><p>Eventually, three more patrons come in, sitting at a table, where Toby timidly walks over and asks what they want. A fourth one casually strides in, and Revenant immediately hums. <strong><em>There’s the one. </em></strong>“The—” Elliott quickly cuts himself off. <em>The one? <strong>Keep an eye on him. Don’t be too obvious. I want to have… fun. </strong></em></p><p>Elliott glances at the man as he sits in one of the stools, sidling up to the One Worder. “Hey, Rick—” he begins, before Dett returns to the two, placing a whiskey neat in front of the One Worder.</p><p>“Hi there. You want the same thing as him?”</p><p>“Ah—nah, I’ll be getting a Lemon Drop.” Dett raises his eyebrows.</p><p>The Lemon Drop was the drink ordered when you needed help. “You just—uh—you just got here?”</p><p>“Mhm,” the man casually replies, sliding a note. Elliott immediately winces at the cackling laughter in his ear. <strong><em>Your Decoys are on evacuating duty! Haha! Oh, this’ll be…</em></strong></p><p>Dett’s eyebrows furrow as he reads the note and he instantly presses the button under the bar before nodding to Toby, who looks petrified. Roger stills and calmly ushers the police chief away, muttering something about needing her to call someone.</p><p>“Where’s Mirage?”</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Just let me out its so fucking obvious he’s trying to rob you and he’s doing it this early? Hah. He’s a fucking idiot.</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>Elliott leans towards Dett, whispering for him to turn off the lights. <em>You’ve got heat seeking shit right? <strong>Oh… trying to hide your crimes? </strong></em>The One Worder looks up to Elliott and, as the lights flicker off, the click of a gun being cocked and aimed at him immediately sends a rush down his spine. It’s both adrenaline and excitement, the prospect of murder the most delicious thing.</p><p>Elliott feels himself reach over the table and slam the One Worder’s head on the table, before the distant tug of a Shadow reaching out making him grimace. The sound of bones being crunched between teeth makes him cringe. The man’s scream before a final, louder crunch silences him, only intensifies the cringe. The arms of his Shadow reach over to the newest patron and shove his fingers into his eyes. Despite his Shadow doing it, he can feel the flesh give way under his fingers, causing him to shudder. The newcomer struggles to unholster a small P2020 and wildly fires at Elliott, merely hitting his Shadow. The Shadow’s fingers manage to reach the man’s brain, puncturing it with claws before curiously stroking the insides. Revenant quickly dissipates the Shadow, as the patrons return. “Gross,” Elliott mutters as the lights flicker on, leaving him standing before two bloody bodies. “Drinks on the house at eleven if you avoid the mess, please.”</p><p>The police chief, who had returned out of curiosity, raises an eyebrow. “They rob you?”</p><p><strong>“Tried,” </strong>Elliott mutters simply, tired, fighting the bubbling laughter Revenant is trying hard to get his host to share. “Can everyone, like, leave for a few hours?”</p><p>Christy smiles and ushers everyone out, making Revenant growl. <strong><em>We can kill them. They’re witnesses. And we had them in this little box… where no one could see them. </em></strong><em>There are so many windows. <strong>The lights were off, dipshit. </strong>Yeah, like someone wouldn’t scream.</em></p><p>Elliott sighs, rubbing his face. “Hey, Dett—sorry for killing your…uh… target?”</p><p>The Decoy’s lips purse. “Don’t worry. It wasn’t going anywhere.”</p><p>“What the <em>fuck</em> just happened?!” Toby shrieks, given the side-eye by Roger who flinches at the noise. “You—we’re gonna get arrested!”</p><p>Roger quickly interrupts, “We’re holographic imitations of—”</p><p>Toby, still freaked out, corrects himself. “Okay, <em>he’s </em>gonna get arrested! Which is still bad!”</p><p>Christy hums, peering over the bodies. “Can’t have you gone. I heard the gunshots. You’ll be fine. Even if you’re accused of shit, somehow, you’re <em>Mirage</em>. What’s the chance you’re—”</p><p>“Yeah no I’m not relying on fame to get out of legal stuff,” Elliott dryly interrupts, much to Revenant’s amusement. <strong><em>We’ll kill whoever fucks with us. </em></strong><em>No we won’t. <strong>Why not. </strong>Please stop killing people. They’re not gonna come back. <strong>That’s the fun part. We impacted their lives. We changed something. Two down, several fucking billion to go. </strong>Oh you’re one of those… ‘all humans have to die’ types, huh? <strong>Don’t tell me they don’t deserve it. </strong></em></p><p>Elliott, increasingly tired with every second, turns to Christy. “How expensive is a cleanup crew?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 6 : Simulacra</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three days after the incident in the bar, a portal appearing in Elliott’s room wakes him up, startling him from a solid four hours of sleep. <strong><em>Wake up skinsuit! She’s here! </em></strong>Revenant practically shouts in his head, causing Elliott to fall off his bed.</p><p>“Oh. The spares are here,” Renee informs him, standing above the disgruntled Legend. She drags the man up, ignoring his grumbles of confusion. Swiftly, the two of them head through the portal, Elliott fully waking up at the coldness of the Void.</p><p>He stumbles onto the ground of a warehouse, quickly standing up and rubbing the tired from his eyes as Ajay holds up a simulacrum model, knocking against it’s head. She frowns at Octavio, who messes with a red cowl that he wears similarly to Revenant. <strong><em>That little prick. </em></strong>Elliott’s Shadow stumbles from him, tackling Octavio and ripping the cowl from him, uncaring as he nearly strangles the junkie.</p><p>“You’re in a bad mood, huh?” Octavio chimes as the Shadow returns to Elliott, placing the cowl in his hands. “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”</p><p>“Woke up on the floor, actually,” Elliott replies, staring at the simulacrum model. <strong><em>Skinsuit. </em></strong><em>Yeah? <strong>When this is all over… When I’m back in the body, and everything’s back to normal… When I’m the focus of their hate and you’re let off the hook… </strong>Oh shit you’re getting sentimental? <strong>I’m going to keep your kidney as a trophy. </strong>Thanks. What about my heart? <strong>First meal back. </strong>You’re sweet.</em></p><p>Ajay furrows her eyebrows. Octavio quickly complains, “What’s the hold up, <em>compadres</em>? Hurry up! We don’t have—” <strong><em>Maybe he’ll be first. </em></strong></p><p>As he expects, Elliott coughs, his short breaths practically wheezes as smoke curls from his lips and flows into the eye sockets of the simulacrum. Renee reluctantly places her hand on Elliott’s back as he almost hacks up a lung, sparks spilling from his mouth as the last of the smoke leaves. After a few moments, Elliott breathes normally, and he looks up at the Simulacrum, who’s bright eyes bore through his soul. Knowing all of Elliott’s moves, Revenant swiftly feigns a direct stab, expecting him to dodge, only to miss his next strike. Elliott grins slightly, surprised that his indifference to dying tricked Revenant. The snarling simulacrum quickly impales the trickster, aggravated at the man’s soft laughter. “What’s so funny, skinsuit?”</p><p>Elliott wheezes slightly, laughing a little to himself, relieved at the feeling of being alone with his thoughts. “You think you’ve learned all my tricks?”</p><p>Octavio leans close to Ajay and asks, “He’s hooked up to the Respawn thing in here, right?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>Revenant scowls, and rolls his eyes. Renee looks merely disappointed in Revenant as he kills Elliott, the robot dropping the man’s body with a slight flick. The next growling of ‘skinsuit’ is directed at Octavio, who laughs, before running through the warehouse.</p><p>“He’s got <em>two </em>tricks. Neither are impressive,” Revenant grumbles to no one in particular, recalibrating his limbs through erratic twitching. With a swiftness he wasn’t capable of in Elliott’s body, he snatches the cowl and wraps it around his head and neck—a bundle of wires he so carefully hides. Renee furrows her brows, the voices murmuring to themselves as the simulacrum stalks past her, almost heading through the portal. “I’d forgotten how shitty it was to be a skinsuit. It’s a miracle you all get anything done.”</p><p>Renee scoffs, “Thanks.” Revenant glares daggers before slinking out of the warehouse, leaving Elliott to rot on the floor. The body swiftly fizzles out, and Renee closes the portal behind her, the voices unanimously in agreement.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Elliott regenerates in the Medbay, and he quickly leaves, given little looks that are quickly ignored by the trickster. He rushes to the kitchen, quickly typing in chocolate in the synthesizer. Anita raises an eyebrow at the antsy Elliott who waits for the synthesizer. The moment it finishes, he tears the wrapper off with his teeth before taking a bite, excited at the flavor.</p><p>“What’s up with you?”</p><p>“I can taste it!” Elliott exclaims excitedly.</p><p>Anita glances to the side. “Uh… yeah…? Oh—right! You mentioned—” she cuts herself off as Elliott slams the button for chocolate again—a small circle arrow—and stuffs the rest of the one in his hand into his mouth. “You’re going to choke.”</p><p>“It’s worth it.”</p><p>Renee quickly portals in, interrupting them. “Elliott. You need to sleep. We interrupted you earlier so you should—” she stares at the pile of wrappers forming on the floor around Elliott. “Uh…”</p><p>“Yeah—yeah, I’ll nap in a bit. Let me enjoy this!” he whines, earning a small look from Renee. She glances aside, the voices quieting. “What’s wrong?” Elliott asks, noticing her distractedness.</p><p>“Nothing important,” she replies, dismissive, as she heads to her room in the long hall.</p><p>Elliott’s smile falls as the slow footsteps of Revenant come closer, the simulacrum restless. “You’re not going to stab me again, right?” the trickster calls out, receiving a laugh from the other room that fills him with uncertainty. “Ah, he’s… funny…”</p><p>“You’ve got a match at nine, Elliott,” Anita reminds him, earning a groan.</p><p>“Fine! I’ll go sleep!” he grumbles, finishing another chocolate bar. “Why’d they give me a match already?”</p><p>“Don’t like it when their prized killers are absent. Plus you’re a fan favorite,” Anita slightly bitterly replies, gently pushing Elliott towards his room.</p><p>As he enters, he grimaces at the bag of food still resting on the mattress, before leaping onto the bed, ignoring the distant feeling of something missing. Still exhausted from being woken abruptly, he drifts off quickly. He’s asleep as Renee returns, who quietly deposits the suitcase with the holosuit beside Elliott’s bed. She smiles softly, and ruffles his hair.</p><p> </p>
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